


It's Easy When Nothing's Wrong

by ninhursag



Category: Gossip Girl
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-23
Updated: 2010-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-06 15:00:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninhursag/pseuds/ninhursag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck's taken care of Nate since the first time. This time is no different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Easy When Nothing's Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> I committed Gossip Girl fic. Please don't hate me. The last episode NEEDED it, okay? Haha. Dedicated to [](http://kkscatnip.livejournal.com/profile)[**kkscatnip**](http://kkscatnip.livejournal.com/).  
> Warnings: Underage sex. Underage intoxication. Implied off-screen dub-con/manipulation. (Like on the show *g*)  
> Spoilers: Never Been Marcused

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |  [gossip girl](http://vaingirlfic.livejournal.com/tag/gossip+girl)  
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The first time-- and Chuck knows it really is Nate's first time even if it isn't his-- they're in Chuck's hotel room. Chuck has a girl, one of the maids, draped across his lap with the polyester uniform skirt pulled up and the stockings pulled down.

Nate's on the couch peeking out from under layers of cotton and linen, pretending to be asleep, like he thinks enough of Chuck's attention is on the girl that he wouldn't notice the heavy breathing and the wide eyes staring from under the covers. Like Chuck won't notice Nate. Nate can be stupid like that.

Chuck rolls his eyes and pushes the girl off the bed unceremoniously. Anyone else and the next thing he'd do would be crook his finger and say, _Come on over here, Nathaniel_, but Nate's not anyone else. Chuck's never sure if he would really come and there's no way he'd take the chance.

"We're done. Get out," he tells the girl, but he's not even looking at her. The lump of Nate has gone still, like he really does believe he's fooling anyone. Chuck lets him keep his dignity long enough for the door to click shut behind the girl.

Then he lets himself smile, slow and easy, his mouth curving into it. "Come on, Nathaniel," he says. "It's a known fact that people who masturbate too much grow unsightly hair on their palms. Blair won't like that one bit."

A muffled, bitten off curse is the only response. Chuck wants to laugh, but he doesn't. "Big words for someone who's never done the deed," he says instead and slides off the bed, covering the distance between that and the couch before Nate has a chance to squirm away.

He pulls the sheets and duvet down with a hard, vicious tug, exposing Nate's red face and the lump in his boxers, the one both of them damn well know Nate just has his hand on.

"You're an asshole," Nate mutters. "What the hell was that for?" His blush spreads down his neck and shoulders, but Chuck can't see a thing to blush about. Nate's all smooth skin and smoother muscle like all that time on the basketball courts have really paid off. Chuck has to give it his all not to lick his lips.

"It's for the charitable prevention of hairy palms society. An excellent cause. I hear your mother sits on the board of trustees," Chuck says. He takes another second to look his fill while Nate scrambles for a come back. Just a second and then he climbs down between Nate's half spread legs and shows him just how interested in charity Chuck really is.

"What are you--" Nate manages, but he shuts up easily enough when Chuck slides his tongue over his mouth. Nate tastes better than the girl, cleaner and warmer, but his lips fall open just as easily and his legs slide apart with Chuck between them.

Nate's eyes are wide as a kitten's when Chuck looks at them and Chuck can hear the pulse pounding under his skin. "Shhh," Chuck whispers, and it comes out softer than he'd meant it to. "Just relax. You're my best friend." It sounds stupid when he says it out loud, like he'd meant to say something else. But it's the truth.

Nate nods and closes his eyes for a second. "Yeah," he whispers. "Yeah. You too." It's like a switch gets turned somewhere behind that ridiculously pretty face and Nate's eyes open again, but now he's smiling. He reaches up, cupping his hand around the back of Chuck's neck and tugs him down and down, right back into the warm wet of his mouth.

Chuck Bass has never been one to argue with getting exactly what he wants. He dives right in. It's easy, so easy that it should be boring, but Nate grins into his shoulder and helps him shove his boxers down until they're tangled around Nate's knees and there's nothing but bare skin pressed against his cock.

It's easy, but Nate's panting into his ear, thrusting up hard against him, his own cock painting lines of wet and hungry across Chuck's belly. Maybe, just this once, Chuck doesn't need it to be a challenge. Maybe it will be anyway.

The morning after, Nate's the first person Chuck ever fucked that he buys breakfast. He thinks of telling him that, in the bright sunlight, over orange juice, waffles and mimosas, but then Nate opens his mouth. His mouth that's still red and swollen from last night.

"So, are you going to make an appearance at Blair's party tonight?" Nate asks blithely, like nothing's changed at all. But of course he's right, nothing has. Chuck smiles at him.

The last time-- no, the most recent time-- that's different from last. Chuck feels the same, but Nate's different, older. When Chuck finds him, he's sitting on the floor just inside the door of Chuck's room, like crawled in that far and couldn't get much further. That could be the literal truth, he stinks like a distillery and his eyes are unfocused.

"Nathaniel?" Chuck asks cautiously and slides down next to Nate so that they're kneeling face to face. Nate doesn't look up at him, so Chuck catches him by the chin and brings his face up so they're looking each other in the eye. Mostly he's acting from too much practice with idiots who've taken something they shouldn't, from making sure they're okay and if they're not that he's not going to get dragged into it. He thinks Nate's just drunk, but it always makes sense to be sure.

"What did you take?" he presses. Nate shakes his head, pulling loose from Chuck's grip.

"Nothing. I just took care of it," Nate mumbles. Without Chuck holding him up, his chin lolls down again, pressed close to his chest. "So you can... buy back your shares of Victrola. Whatever. You never should have sold them. Not for me."

"What are you talking about?" Chuck asks carefully. He leans back on his heels, but Nate's eyes flutter closed. "Took care how?"

Nate makes a sound that's probably supposed to be a laugh and he shakes his head. "Just took care. I got the money for my mom. I don't need you to give things up for me, you know?"

"Nathaniel," Chuck says, and he can hear his voice sharpen even if he doesn't want it to. "What did you do, exactly?"

"Nothing I didn't do before, anyway," Nate says. His eyes open again and they're wide, earnest. "Nothing's wrong with it. She said she'd give me it if I-- I wanted to do it, wanted to all summer and I wanted to afterwards. It was easy. Nothing is wrong."

Chuck draws in a breath and gets it. He cups his hand over Nate's cheek and this time Nate doesn't wince away, just keeps looking at Chuck with those ridiculous, Bambi eyes. "I can see how easy it was," he says, but he keeps everything else down. There's no point arguing with Nate drunk, less point arguing with him sober.

"Nothing is wrong." Nate makes a noise and moves faster than anyone as wasted as he is should know how to do. His mouth hits Chuck's at the same time his palm hits the wall, steadying them both. It's all teeth and viciousness, dirtier than any way Chuck ever taught Nate to kiss, but Chuck opens his mouth and takes it, gives it back.

It's easy to kiss like this, lick the taste of expensive and stale liquor out of Nate's mouth, feel the press of the familiar body against his. It's easy to pretend that he can't taste salt mixed in with the alcohol, that he doesn't know Nate is crying into his mouth.

Chuck doesn't say, _it's okay, it'll be okay_. He wants to, but instead he lets Nate push him down on the floor and shove their hips together, right there in all their clothes with just the soft, heavy carpet as a cushion under Chuck's head. He presses his mouth against Nate's cheeks and licks off the trail of water from his face, cups his hands over Nate's hip and back and moves with him. He doesn't say a word.

After, Nate is a limp weight above him, a sated and heavy-lidded drunk, more asleep than awake. He moves without arguing, leaning against Chuck like a sleepy little boy when Chuck tugs him to his feet and guides him to bed. He even raises his hands up and lets Chuck tug his shirt over his head and off. Lets him pull his pants and boxers down his hips and over his feet.

His eyes are mostly closed and he's warm and pliant, so Chuck takes all the time to inspect his bared skin carefully. There are the beginnings of bruises, fresh blooming from what they just did, but he ignores those. The nail marks dug into the smooth, sungolden skin of Nate's shoulders and back, though, that... that wasn't from Chuck.

Chuck closes his eyes and presses his mouth down over the marks and he knows it's a mark of how tired and obliterated Nate it is that he doesn't pull away. "Wanna sleep," Nate mumbles and his head slides down, coming to rest on Chuck's shoulder. "Please."

"Sleep, then," Chuck whispers and pushes him down onto the bed, climbing in after him. "Don't worry, I'll take care of everything." Nate's eyes close before his head hits the pillow and Chuck sighs and splays his palm over Nate's face, feeling him breathe.

"I was going to take care of it all along. You can be a real idiot, Nathaniel," he whispers before he leans down to tug the covers up over both of them. He listens to Nate's breaths get calmer, evener, feels him fall down into sleep. He doesn't bother to close his own eyes. There's no point sleeping when he's got plans to make.

Anyone who left Nate like this should really have thought long and hard about the fact that they'd have Chuck Bass on their doorstep before very long.


End file.
